The Adventures of Adareia
by Calliope Weasley
Summary: She's Daria to you, but once upon a time, not too long ago, she was known as Adareia. Read the diary of Kyrria's queen as she was: a feisty Ayorthaian girl navigating life in the capital and learning who she is meant to be. R&R.
1. Chapter 1

—

16th September

Dear Diary,

I am new at this. I've made attempts to keep diaries before, but they ended in almost immediate failure. I am not very good at finishing anything that I start. I have undertaken many lofty tasks (from alphabetizing the books in father's study to translating the royal charter of Ayortha into Elfian), and I am shamed to say that I have carried through in none. I do _mean_ to finish things, of course, but my mind is flighty and I often find my interest in one thing waning whenever some new, more exciting undertaking springs to mind. Mother smiles sagely and wishes me the best of luck when I proudly inform her of some intricate new venture. Father simply tells me (with that deadpan expression on his face) that I am too capricious and I would do better to focus on something more practical.

I hate him, I think.

It is not because he is mean to me, or for something as silly as calling me capricious. (I _am_ capricious; I know this.) I despise him because he is so--- _dull_. Everything about him is vapid and spiritless: his plain face, his gray eyes, his mouth that remains in that permanent, sullen frown at all times... I think that I could list a thousand ways that he is overall lacking in _any_and all appealing characteristics. He is insipidly dreary. No, no- he is _far_ worse than that. He is insipidly, drearily tedious. Insipidly, drearily, tediously _dull_! That is perhaps the most apt description that one can formulate with mere words. He is a vortex into which all enthusiasm and happiness in those around him is drawn and stifled. I am miserable when he calls me to sit with him in his study. I think he feels obligated, as my father, to spend time with me. I really wish he did not.

I hide in the stables so that none of the servants can find me and make me go to him. Mother—who _must_ have some instinctual way of locating me—comes along and scolds me for being thankless.

"Well, I'd rather be a thankless wretch than a dullard!" I tell her, feeling a little guilty if only for her sake. Poor Mother tries so hard to incite some fondness in me for Father. I feel bad that she will not admit defeat, _despite_ my adamant declarations of loathing. How she manages to remain so bright and optimistic all the time is beyond me. I suppose she is just of that altruistic stock that strain to see the best in any situation.

I will _never_ be that way. I will not settle for a monotonous life and try to make it _seem_ better than it is.

With that said, I suppose some sort of introduction is in order. I am Adareia, daughter of Lady Euthalie and Sir Dougal of Onofro, Ayortha. My father—as his dreadful name bespeaks—is Kyrrian by birth, and so he insists upon calling me 'Daria' in accordance to the pronunciation of his homeland. (Another reason that I can hardly tolerate him.) I am sixteen years of age, reasonably tall (though not as tall as I would like to be), tan and freckled, and moderately pretty. Mother tells me that I am beautiful, but she is both biased_and_ generous in general so there is really no believing a word she says. I am pleased to be 'just pretty', anyways. I am passionate about music and poetry (they are very closely related, after all), and I_adore_ the Elfian language (it is rather poetic, don't you think?).

My dislikes are many, so I shall spare you of having to listen to them all. (Though you _are_ my diary and I _can_ bore you all I please.) I do not like when it is sunny for too long. I adore rain; the sound of it as it falls, the way that it looks as it falls in sheets, the smell the flowers and trees afterwards, etc. I am quite fond of swimming, but inexplicably fearful of fish. (Not a dislike... I guess they are harder to think of than I'd thought!) I don't like competitions unless I'm certain that I can win. Subsequently, I hate losing. I detest when people are impolite just to prove that they can be. And I hate quills, for they are terribly bothersome to work with.

I've spilled my ink. All over father's papers, no less. Will write later after cleaning this mess.

–Adareia

* * *

17th September

Dear Diary,

You did not think you'd see me again, did you? But I am back again, eager to continue this new little avocation of mine.

It followed that father scolded me humorlessly for the ink-spilling incident; it turned out that I stained more than his papers. His desk, which is some heirloom handed down for seven generations, was 'irreparably marked'. I apologized profusely, for I really did feel bad, but Father (actually showing signs of personality for once) was rather cross with me and didn't want to listen to any of it. I_was_ glad to have an excuse to slip away for an afternoon, though.

I went into Onofro for a diversion. It is only a small village and all who live there are tenants of my father. Father is despised rather passionately by nearly everyone who resides there. (For a man as dull as a piece of wood he certainly loves his money.) I _would_ find that refreshing if not for the fact that they despise me, too. (Rather unjustly, I might add!) I used to pilfer artifacts from around the house to bring to the villagers in almsgiving, but they only thought me arrogant and boastful. (Which was hardly my intent at all, as you must know.) I have since given up any efforts of winning their favor and have resigned myself to the fate of being hated for my father's hefty taxation.

The only person who will even give me the time of day in Onofro is Eirene, the village spinster. If you beheld her, you would wonder in awe how and why she never married. Though she is old and gray now, there is no mistaking that she must have been _gorgeous_ as a girl. Her eyes are a jewel-toned green, bright and lively despite her advanced years. She has a heart-shaped face that is reminiscent of the sprites and nymphs of storybooks: impish and sportive.

Her 'flaw' (as the villagers see it) is only that she is rather..._unique_. Eirene has convinced herself that she can see the future just as well as any gnome can, and proceeds to parade around town announcing her predictions to the wary townspeople. They think her mad, but I just believe her to be a colorful soul. It worries Mother that I go to see her, for she thinks that Eirene is dangerous just because she is eccentric. I think _that_ is hogwash. Eirene is as harmless as a fly. More harmless! Flies occasionally bite, and Eirene is nothing if not a delightful, albeit misunderstood, woman. And besides, she is the only distraction that boring Onofro has to offer. I tell Mother that if I had a brother or sister to amuse me I would have no need to visit Eirene. Mother always becomes very flustered and simply tells me, quite sheepishly, that I can do whatever I please. (I don't know why, but that gets her every time.)

But all that is besides the point of this story.

I went to see Eirene that day in her tiny little cottage on the outskirts of the village, an establishment so dilapidated that it looks to be rotting at its very foundation. (Note to self- remind Father that he should remedy that situation.) As always she ushered me in happily, prattling on about such pleasantries as the weather and the approaching sing-around. I informed her of the latest occurrences in my own life, which consisted of composing mediocre songs and knocking over inkwells. (My life is as uneventful as my father is dull... _extremely_.)

"I think I have some news that shall cheer you!" She sang out happily, gesturing for me to sit upon a mildew-covered wooden chair beside the dingy fireplace.

"Oh?"

"I've had a vision about _your_ future, Adareia!" Eirene announced, smiling brightly and eagerly in anticipation of some exhilarated outburst on my part.

Usually the alleged predictions are about Oleandro's second oldest son or Aella's pig and such random people and things, so I was surprised and diverted to hear my name. Even if every single word was going to be made up on a whim, it would still be fun to hear what zany tale Eirene could concoct. You must understand, diary, that Eirene refuses to believe that she doesn't truly know the future. I play along for_ her_ sake. _Mostly_ for her sake. That is not so terrible, is it?

"That's marvelous! What have you seen?" I asked, clasping my hands together.

She proceeded to tell me, in detail, the contents of her 'vision'. She said it began with a persistent cacophony that sounded like the rumbling of carts and clatter of metal. I was standing in the middle of this noise, crying profusely and announcing (to no one in particular) that I would never be my mother.

And that was it.

I didn't know what to make of any of it. I smiled and nodded my head, acting as if I had some idea of what she meant. I was disappointed. It wasn't half as funny as the prediction about Aella's pig growing wings and flying off to live with the giants. It wasn't funny at all, to be honest.

"Thank you _very_ much," I said reverently, unable _not_ to furrow my brows in confusion. But Eirene seemed pleased enough in even that feeble show of gratitude, and went on to talk about how she wished very much that my mother would come to sing in the festival. I agreed, though we both knew our mutual wish was futile. We continued to talk of singing and music for some time (after all, no Ayorthaian ever tires of the subject). We were talking of the _Amaffa Udensiu, _a classic aria, when a din arose from the people of Onofro.

Forgetting about Eirene and all decorum, I sprang to my feet and ran outside to see what was going on. Villagers had congregated to either side of the dusty road that runs through town, staring in awe at a gilded carriage that was passing at an incredibly slow pace. It almost seemed that the people within the carriage—pleased with the attention they were receiving—had ordered the driver to go slow enough so that all could sufficiently admire their expensive means of transportation. I pushed my way through the crowd, straining to see who exactly was heading towards my estate.

I recognized the haughtily smiling woman within in a second's time. It was Ahtia, my mother's sister. Duchess and veritable ogre-in-disguise. She is nothing if not an attention-monger, preening herself on a self-satisfied awareness of her own incredible wealth. I hate her, diary, more than I could ever hate my father. She is so... You cannot possibly understand. I've had to suppress—innumerable times—the impulse to strangle her with my own two hands.

_Gah_! She brought with her Uncle Unatu, if only for the purpose of pointing out to everyone—several times in _every_ conversation—that he is a Duke. She is the most shamelessly arrogant— _Oh_. She's come in the room. And is expressing an interest in what I'm doing. More later. I promise.

–Adareia

* * *

20th September; Midnight

Diary,

You wouldn't believe the nerve of this woman! From the moment she arrived (uninvited, I might add), she has insulted everything and everyone in her underhanded way. She is rather skillful, I must say. You can't confront her about her rudeness because she isn't saying anything outright, but you can _tell_ what her intent is in saying what she says. These three days with her have been three days too long.

It is just my luck that I, in particular, am under Aunt Ahtia's constant scrutiny. _'Euthalie, Adareia is rather untamed, is she not?'_,_'Euthalie, shouldn't you get the girl a governess?'_,_'Euthalie, don't you discipline the dear thing?'._ She badgers my poor mother night and day about me and my appearance and my behavior. And it isn't as if I'm running about the manor with unkempt hair and dress, acting like a barbarian. I dress nicely and plait my hair! I'm being perfectly amiable! More amiable than_ that_ ogre deserves!

An example: This morning, I struck up a perfectly polite conversation about life in the capital. I inquired after her home and expressed interest in her reply, even though I would have much preferred _eating my own foot(!)_. I smiled and laughed when the situation called, nodded thoughtfully... And I did it all with perfect grace! What more could she want?

I have the suspicion that this has nothing at all to do with me and everything to do with my mother. Aunt Ahtia derives some sort of sordid pleasure at making my mother nervous and uncomfortable. And I see them talking sometimes, off away from Father and Uncle Unatu. There is this horrible, menacing look on my aunt's face, and poor Mother looks close to tears and seems to be apologizing profusely. I_would_ tell Ahtia my exact thoughts of her—excluding _none_ of the expletives—if I didn't know that Mother would absolutely_die_.

If my aunt were hideous or plain, even, I would account her belligerence to jealousy. But she is _more_ beautiful than my mother, if anything, _and_ richer _and_ more celebrated in society. Ahtia persists, whatever her motive may be, to be intolerable. This evening was the worst one yet. She decided to wage a full-fledged war against _me_.

It all started innocently enough. Mother had gently asked Uncle Unatu what he liked to do when he not engaged by his business, smiling sweetly at her oafish brother-in-law. The poor man (he is plain and unintelligent, but forgivably so) was just starting to answer when Ahtia interrupted superciliously.

"Unatu is _always_ caught up in his business ventures! He has not gotten so prosperous from lolling about-" She sent Father a meaningful look and proceeded with a glib smile. "-and when he is not dealing with his work, he is very popular with all the courtiers. He is a particular favorite of-" Again she paused, this time looking straight at Mother. "- the _king_."

My mother grew red and smiled nervously. "That's very nice, Unatu."

My uncle just nodded, more interested in his food than anything else. He is a rather rotund fellow with a ruddy face and beady black eyes, and is by _no_ stretch of the imagination attractive. _At all_. I am glad of that, at least; he is no more than Ahtia deserves. I only wish that he were larger and uglier, so much so that he could snap her in half with a single embrace. _That_ would be marvelous!

A-hem..._Where_ was I, again? Oh yes...

So then Father tried _his_ hand at prompting the conversation. "So, how are the children, Unatu?"

Again my aunt took the liberty of answering the question.

"Our_son_ Enile is now seven and is very athletic. And Astraea is extremely accomplished now," she gushed, delicately taking a bite of food. "She is only fourteen, but she is excelling in every aspect of her training."

_She sounds like a horse_, I thought, snickering to myself. Ahtia must have heard or seen, because she grew suddenly frenetic.

"You are sixteen, are you not, Adareia?" She demanded, glaring daggers from her olive eyes. She tented her fingers and tilted her head to the side as she studied me raptly.

I knew that I was an idiot to have made any sound. "Yes?"

"Do you embroider?" Ahtia asked sneeringly.

"Not particularl-"

"Do you draw?" She smirked.

"A littl-"

"Oh my! In that case, you _must_ be very good at dancing," she quipped, smiling a calculated smile.

"Umm... not really?" I don't know why I didn't just lie. I wanted to conjure some brilliant insult, but I found myself dumbstruck and defenseless. I saw my mother out of the corner of my eye; she was near to tears and her expression was furious.

"Adareia is brilliant! She is extremely advanced in speaking both Kyrrian _and_ Elfian, and her tutor tells me that she is quickly learning Abdegi. And besides that, she has an enchanting voice!" Mother sputtered, springing to her feet in a fervor. "She doesn't need to draw and dance and embroider to be wonderful!"

We all stared at her in shock. I was beaming with pride at Mother's out-of-character forwardness. Father was horrified.

"That's enough, Euthalie," he scolded laconically, a little dazed looking. He was probably completely ignorant of the fact that Ahtia had insulted me to begin with. I wanted to slap him.

Mother nodded obediently and sat down, looking to her lap shamefully. "I'm sorry everyone; _Ahtia_."

Why she allows herself to be pushed around by Father and Ahtia is beyond me. Perhaps there is some truth in Eirene's prediction after all.

The rest of the meal passed with a restive silence, with the exception of a few scolds from my aunt. She had the nerve to say _'You're eating with the wrong fork, Adareia_' after _EVERYTHING_. She is the most persistent, unbearable... _**UGH!**_ I wish the ogres she resembles (in behavior) would take it upon themselves to eat her!

I'm exhausted. And ill-tempered. I saw Mother and Aunt Ahtia talking in whispers again after dinner tonight, but I could not catch a word of it. It's driving me mad. But I suppose I can do nothing to remedy that.

I wrote a song for Aunt Ahtia. I think I shall slip it into her carriage before she departs. It's aptly entitled _'Ibensi Otebo Usaccu_' ('My Undying Hatred for You'). I'll copy the lyrics in here later. For now, sleep.

– Adareia


	2. Chapter 2

R&R, please.

* * *

22nd September

Diary,

Nothing much to write. Master Emilie came for several hours today. Lessons were tedious. This particular chapter of Ayorthaian history made me want to tear out my hair. (_'King Artura ruled in peace and begat King Iani, who sired King Adama, who blah-blah-blah...'_) And Abdegi makes me lightheaded with all the howling and whistling and honking. We're going to start Gnomish soon, too. I don't know how many languages one can learn before their head explodes. I'm walking a dangerous line, I think.

Master Emilie, however, does not seem to agree.

I went to see Eirene after lessons. She had a rather hilarious 'vision' about Aunt Ahtia's hair setting on fire. I think she made it up to make me smile. I'm glad she did. I was laughing hysterically for what seemed like _hours_.

Mother is avoiding me, which is odd. Uncle Unatu says they must return to the capital soon. I think I will cry out of joy when they are gone. These past days Ahtia has been bearable, if not smug. Maybe she's seen the evil of her ways. But I really doubt that, though. She must have some diabolical reason for her tolerable behavior.

Have I mentioned that I hate Father? He asked me what I thought of finishing school today. I asked him what he thought of being punched in the face. (Just kidding. Though that _was_ my exact thought.)

I misplaced the lyrics of '_Ibensi Otebo Usaccu_' somewhere. Hopefully Aunt Ahtia will find them. That would be a laugh.

– Adareia

* * *

23rd September, henceforth referred to as DAY SENT FORTH FROM THE DEPTHS OF HELL

Diary,

MUST. KILL. AHTIA.

Not much time to write. I've got to pack. _We_ leave tomorrow. Note the 'we'. Yes, that's a 'we' as in Aunt Ahtia, Uncle Unatu, _AND_ I. Leaving. Tomorrow.

Mother and Father thought it a good idea. Being in society would do me good, they said. There are no youths of noble stock around Onofro. I really _need_ to meet some upstanding people my age. I wonder if Ahtia was hiding behind the curtains with a dagger in her hand, threatening them with murder if they didn't spring this totally absurd and unforeseen scheme upon me.

"We were considering boarding school, but Aunt Ahtia so kindly offered the services of her governess," Father said impassively. "You will live with your cousins and aunt and uncle."

He's an idiot. Doesn't he realize what he's doing? He's handing me off _her_: the most horrible, wretched ogre on the face of the planet! I hoped desperately that he had decided to develop a sense of humor and was making a joke. Fruitlessly, I might add.

_But Mother! Surely she'll help me_, I thought.

_Hah_. No such luck, dear diary, no such luck.

"It will be a wonderful opportunity," Mother continued for him, her voice high and strained. "You always wanted to see the world outside Onofro. This is your chance. And think of all the people you will meet there and-"

I didn't listen to the rest. Mother had betrayed me. I stared at her in awe for some time. Then I informed Mother and Father that I'd sooner die and I hated them both, and I ran off to Eirene's hut.

Eirene is very forlorn. I asked her if she had any visions of Mother's hair setting on fire and Father being attacked by Aella's flying pig, but she just shook her head sadly. I think she shall miss me very much. No one else talks to her. I did not stay long because she was very quiet and would not further any conversations I attempted to start. I hugged her goodbye, though, and promised I'd write. I am not sure whether she is literate or not, but I think she will feel better knowing that I think of her.

I returned home dejectedly. Father reprimanded me. Ahtia stood in the background with pursed lips and muttered things like '_This is exactly why she must come' _and '_The girl cannot be permitted to speak to you thus, Dougal'_. I did not have it in me to even stick out my tongue at her when Father wasn't looking. It probably would not have been a very good idea anyways. After all, I'm going to be under her supervision for the next... How long? _Forever?_ Until she can gag and bind me and force me to marry some old, ugly noble like Uncle Unatu?

The thought of it all makes me ill.

I_will_ reluctantly admit that I _am_ eager to see the rest of the world. I have not been more than half a day's travel from Onofro in my entire life, nor have I ever seen an Elf, Gnome, Giant, _or_ Ogre. Yes, it _is_ rather pathetic, but I cannot be blamed for the dull location of my father's inheritance. Blame my grandfather. (_I_ do.)

I pray that the capital will offer a cultural cornucopia so that I may at least gain_ something_ from this agonizing experience. If I hold a conversation with even a_single_ Elf during my entire time with Aunt Ahtia, the doleful situation will be made worth the strife it will undoubtedly entail. Perhaps I can convince him or her (the Elf, that is) to allow me to return with them to their forest home so that I may live among them. That would certainly teach Aunt Ahtia a lesson.

What lesson that is, I am not sure. But it would at least make Mother regret her inability to stand up to her sister.

Speaking of Mother, she is presently at my door. She isn't saying anything (perhaps waiting for me to initiate conversation), but I have decided that I will ignore her altogether and commence packing.

I suppose the next time I will be able to write is when I've reached my new 'home'.

Pray for me, Diary.

_Hah_. I sometimes forget that you're an inanimate book and nothing more. It's funny how people talk to their diaries, isn't it? I suppose you shall need a name if I am to address you as a person. It will (at the very least) make _me_ feel less absurd.

I cannot think of anything suiting you at this moment, O Nameless Diary of Mine. Give me a day or two and I'll think of _something_.

– Adareia

* * *

24th September

Diary,

I am exhausted from the journey. I was woken before the sun itself and forced to prepare. Apparently Ahtia and Unatu were 'already waiting for me', though I'm fairly certain that's just what they _wanted_ me to think so that I would feel guilty. (I did _NOT_.) I was deriving as much pleasure as I could (which was not much) from being impossible. I refused to let any servant into my room to help me dress, and I _insisted_ upon re-packing my chest at least seventeen times until I was 'satisfied' with it. When my Father finally insisted (dully! How does one order someone about without any sort of expression? _How_?) that I leave my room on threat of punishment, I finally emerged and announced that I was prepared to go.

I was sadder to go than I thought I would be. Between hating Mother (and Father to a lesser degree... primarily because I don't expect much of him) and agonizing over what a hell my life with be with my aunt, I'd forgotten all about how much I actually care for Onofro. Sure it's dull most of the time, but it's _my_ boring little town. The images of Eirene's hut and the murky little pond and the big oak that even an oaf like me can climb all flashed through my mind. I spent some time crying inconsolably, just thinking of my life and how nothing would ever be the same.

It was miserable. I never want to feel that way ever again.

The worst part was that Aunt Ahtia saw my weakness, and will undoubtedly strive to cause another such breakdown. Mother, upon seeing me cry, fled the room. I know that I said I hated her-- and I _want_ to hate her—but I realized that I'm not going to see her again for months or YEARS. So I went after her, ignoring Unatu's impatient '_humphs'_.

She was looking out the window to the gray skies, nearly expressionless. But her eyes were so bereft that I nearly apologized to her. I know that she deserved no apology, as _I_ was the one leaving and she was the one _sending_ me. I love her dearly, though, and it hurt me to see her so sad.

"Mother? I—I don't _hate_ you, per se," I mumbled with a shrug, my voice still wavering slightly. "You don't have to send me away. Between the two of us, we can convince Father against it!"

"No," she said simply in reply, sighing. "You deserve this. As horrible as it seems now… Adareia?"

I was frustrated with her reply.

"_What?_" I snapped, furrowing my brow angrily. So much for that…

She smiled a serene smile and bent to kiss my cheek. "You will do well out there. Onofro is no place for a brilliant young woman like you. You deserve to see the world and be a part of it. I hated him, too. I hated her. Though her reasons for it may be ill, she is right. I don't want you to be ignorant of what you can have. Do you understand? Do you believe that I wished the best for you?"

I shrugged a shoulder unenthusiastically and mumbled, "I guess" under my breath indistinctly. Mother nodded and let out a tremulous sigh.

"Living in Aamina will teach you so very much. You will not need—or_want_—to come home. You won't need me. I--" She paused a moment, growing red-faced and teary-eyed. "I was never as clever as Ahtia. I was a good singer, and I might've been great, but I lacked the passion. I could do nothing well enough to be extraordinary. Nothing made me happy enough to _want_ to pursue it. When you were born… Being your mother has made me so_happy_. When I see how much potential you have, it makes me feel like I've done _something_. I know that I cannot take credit for your determination, or your precocity… You were a singular creature from the day you were born. But-"

I stared at her dumbly, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. Her praise of me was not unusual: she often times launched into lauding speeches about how I was smart and lovely and la-de-da. I hardly pay them much mind, as self-deprecation is something of a talent with me. But I did not deny what she said this time because I was so... confused? That doesn't seem the right word. She had completely broken down, and was turning away from me in embarrassment. I hugged her, hesitantly at first, and then tightly.

"I love you!" I cried, a childish dependence on my mother flaring within me. I did not ever want to let go. "I'll go, but I'll miss you all the while."

"You won't," she replied, sobbing. "Oh, Adareia! If only you knew…"

I never got to hear what she was going to say. Father burst into the room and stared at us blankly, instantaneously succeeding in ruining the moment.

"Are you done?" He asked callously, with some stupid condescending tone, as if we had control over our sadness and tears. "You've got to get going."

Mother released me and nodded towards my father. "It's best to make it quick, Adareia. Quick goodbyes are the easiest. Better than long ones. Better than no goodbye at all…"

She released me then with a meaningful frown. It felt too soon to leave her arms, but I had no choice.

Father then approached me stiffly, arms awkwardly stretched towards me in the start of what promised to be a gawky embrace. I tried—_so very hard!!!_—to search my mind for something about him that I would miss. I had forgiven Mother (more or less), and I wanted to endeavor to be fair and give Father a chance. As awful as it must sound, as bad and thankless as I must seem, I could think of nothing! I don't love him! I don't! Maybe I don't hate him, but I DO NOT love him a bit. I won't miss him. At all.

I allowed him to hug me, though, and I even hugged back. Then, without a word more to anyone, I went out to the carriage and climbed in.

Ahtia and Unatu were silent the entire journey. They had nothing to say to each other or me, and I _certainly_ had nothing to say to either of them. I looked out the window the entire time, bored out of my mind. The scenery was amusing for about an hour, after which it seemed like we were passing the same trees, lakes, and towns over and over again. My legs were cramping and falling asleep, and I could not straighten them without accidentally kicking Uncle Unatu. (He didn't appreciate it, though I can't say that I was very sorry.) The worst part was that Unatu was asleep most of the time and it was just Ahtia and I sitting together in an uncomfortable silence. I'm certain she's only capable of formulating insults, and she must have been saving _those_ for a time and place where the most people could enjoy them. What fun is there in slighting me when there are not other arrogant idiots to laugh alongside her?

I'm sad to say that I've seen no one of interest. I did not see an Elf or a Gnome, and—thankfully—I saw no Ogres. Our journey takes another half day, so we are currently staying in a comfy little inn. Ahtia has done nothing but complain about it since we arrived, and I think I saw Uncle Unatu roll his eyes.

Maybe I will learn to like him after all.

They're both asleep right now, and I think I should follow suit. I'm not at all tired, even though the journey was long and my mind is overwrought. I think that I'm actually _excited_ to see Aamina and that's keeping me awake. But that's our secret, okay?

I still don't have a name for you. It's better to have a marvelous one at a later time than a boring one now, so I wouldn't despair, Diary. I'll name you after the first Elf that I meet. There. That's the best idea that I've had in some time.

Despite the effort that procuring ink and a quill and dedicating hours to writing require, I am glad that I have you, Diary. I think you will be instrumental to my sanity in these coming times. To keep my hatred for Ahtia bottled inside me would most definitely cause me to explode!

I'm off to attempt to sleep.

--Adareia

* * *

30th September, Midnight or Later

Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep.

Ugh.

I can't sleep. Should I count sheep? (That rhymed!)

One. Two. Three. Four.

It might help if I lay down.

Worth a try.

Goodnight, for good this time.

I hope.

--Adareia

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

R&R, please.

* * *

1st October 

Diary! Dear, dear diary!

How I've longed for these pages!!!

Where to begin?

Aamina has not disappointed (visually, at least). I will allow _that_, even though I will surely be miserable here. The streets are wide, cobbled, and clean. The palace—which can be seen from the balcony of my room—is _gorgeous_. It is made, I believe, out of sandstone, which means it has numerous hues of earthy oranges, beiges, browns, etc. All the towers and spires have billowing flags of vibrant reds and yellows, each bearing the seal of the nation. I am told the gardens are beyond extraordinary. The contrast of cool, verdant greens against the backdrop of the warmer colors of the palace walls must be breathtaking. I hope to see it soon.

Too bad I am to be cooped in this miserable manor, which is decorated in an impersonal, stuffy, extravagant way.

I became reacquainted with my cousins Astraea and Enile yesterday. I had not seen either in four or five years, which is how I _prefer_ the state of things. (Perhaps I am being unfair… they are not _that_ bad… not as bad as their mother, at least.) Enile is a spoiled young boy, who (surprisingly) is as thin as a beanpole and almost as tall as me. He is seven.

Needless to say, that depressed me very much. I hate feeling short.

His first words to me were: "_You're_ cousin Adareia?"

And then he wrinkled his too-long, too-wide nose and pouted, looking quite like a disgruntled two-year-old.

"You're not as pretty as Mother or Astraea."

I was torn between tears—pathetic, I know—and insulting _his_ appearance with a vehemence that would probably have _him_in tears. But I composed myself and said nothing.

Then Astraea came flouncing down the stairs, her dress skirt swishing perfectly. She was lovely, and I hated her at once. Yes, I know superficiality works two ways, but _really_. It isn't right for anyone to be as pretty as she. I don't think it necessary to launch into some in-depth description of her gold_-_flecked forest green eyes and her pretty, pointed face and upturned nose… _Erg_.

She smiled at me, and I could not tell whether there was any thinly veiled superciliousness. "Adareia! It's been so long!"

I gritted my teeth and steeled myself for some obligatory hug. She did not hug me, though. She simply stood in place, arms akimbo.

"You look just as I remember! Do I?"

"Do you _what_?" I replied indifferently, hardly bothering to hide my indifference.

"Do I look different?" she inquired pertly, widening her eyes in suspense.

I imagined that she was looking for me to tell her how pretty and womanish she had become. I shrugged.

"You look… pretty much the same."

Enile looked at me dully. "I don't remember how Adareia looked before. I don't remember ever meeting her."

Astraea waved him off. "Are Mother and Father ordering the servants about again? They cannot help critiquing everything anyone does. Mother can't, at least. I'd bet three gold AJ's that they're telling Olio that he's not removing your trunk from the carriage properly. Oh well. Would you like to see my room?"

She said this all flippantly, and I could not tell whether she was seriously criticizing her parents.

"Why not?" I replied. Well, there was no reason _not_ to. I decided to be brave and not surrender to my antisocial impulses.

"You'll be sleeping in your own, of course," Astraea informed me, starting up the spiral staircase. "That is, unless you _wish_ to stay with me."

It sounded as if that was her desire. I said nothing, and followed her as she led me down a corridor cluttered with too many 'elegant' paintings and antiques. I realized after a moment that Enile was tagging behind me. I suppressed the desire to 'accidentally' kick him in the shin.

The corridor was excessively long. I decided to ask them something that had bothered me since arriving.

"Did you two _know_ that I was coming?" I inquired.

Astraea said nothing, but smiled contritely. Enile shrugged a shoulder.

"Lovely," I cried angrily. "The two of _you_ knew I was to be your housemate even before _I_ did. Is it your mother's life goal to ruin my life?"

Astraea shook her head with an amiably sad expression. "Mother seeks to control everyone she can. Don't let it get to you. If you play along, it makes it much easier. My room is here."

And thus she seamlessly altered the topic to her room. It was as terrible in décor as the rest of the house (undoubtedly the product of Ahtia's influence), but dispersed throughout were little trinkets and articles that seem to represent Astraea—_if_ she is as sweet as she seems. There were dried flowers hanging from the window, and an old, misshapen sunhat with a seafoam green ribbon lied on her armoire. Sketches of the palace, flowers, and her family members were scattered over her vanity. I bent over to appraise them while Astraea hovered behind me sheepishly.

"They're not very good, I know," she mumbled uncomfortably. "Perhaps you'd like to see my wardrobe?"

"I don't care about your wardrobe," I retorted tactlessly. "And they're lovely!"

Enile leaned against one of the posts of Astraea's showily carved mahogany bed. "She always says that, and _everyone_ always says that she's good. She's fishing for compliments."

Astraea glared at him. "Am not."

"Are too," Enile retorted, contorting his face into a mocking expression.

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"I bet you're just bitter because _you_ can't draw, Enile," I interjected, studying Astraea's charcoal drawing of her mother. (It captured quite prolifically her self-satisfied spirit, whether that was the intent or not.)

I don't know why I was defending her so intently. I hardly knew the girl. For all I knew, Enile was right.

But he was rude and insensitive, and Astraea at the very least _acted_ nice.

She smiled at me glowingly. "Would you like to see your room?"

"Don't you want to show me yours first, Enile?" I inquired with false sweetness.

"No. I don't like you," he answered simply.

"Good," I sang out. "For I don't like you either."

Astraea rolled her eyes and started towards the hall, while Enile stood smiling.

"You're odd," he observed bluntly. "But that's not bad."

I shrugged and followed Astraea down the hall. She gestured grandly to a door, upon which some dried flowers were hung.

"This is your room," she informed me brilliantly.

"I put the flowers there," she added as an afterthought, turning the handle.

Part of me expected it to be no larger than a closet. I was surprised (and pleased, I suppose) to find a moderately sized, tastefully furnished room. (Tasteful, at least, in the fact that it was sparse, and therefore not overcrowded with Ahtia's flamboyant ornaments.)

I sat on the bed and looked around me. "It's nice."

It is nothing to home, of course, but I was surprised to find that I would _not_ be turned into a scullery maid.

Astraea grinned. "Oh, I'm so glad you like it! It's not very much at the moment, but we could hang a few drawings of mine if you like, and—"

She tittered nervously. "You look tired, Adareia. How insensitive I am! Enile and I will let you alone."

Enile looked around. "I don't know why mother decided Adareia should stay in _this_ room. We have much nicer guest rooms."

Astraea flushed. "_Really,_Enile. Do you ever think before you speak? Come on. Adareia would probably like some time alone."

She managed to steer her brother out of my room, while I shook my head at Ahtia. Of course she would give me her blandest room. Unfortunately for her, I_ like_ it.

After standing on my balcony for some time, I at last settled into writing in _you_.

I miss home. I miss Mother. I do _not_ miss Father, but I miss Eirene. I miss many things. I feel as if I could cry, yet at the same time there is a quivering of excitement in my chest.

I—ADAREIA, WHO HAS NEVER BEEN _ANYWHERE_—AM IN AAMINA, THE CAPITAL OF AYORTHA! AT ANY MOMENT I MIGHT MEET SOME FOREIGN NOTABLE, AN ELF, A GNOME…

It is almost _too_ much. I think I might take a nap.

-- Adareia

* * *

2nd October

Diary,

Have yet to meet an Elf. I'm sorry I did not write after my nap. I slept well past dinner (no one had the decency to wake me), so I had to sneak down to the kitchen to forage for food. Unluckily, Ahtia told the servants NOT to give me anything.

A plump old woman shrugged an indifferent shoulder. "Mistress says if you want to eat, you eat with the rest of the family."

I could hear the witch saying that in her nasally voice. I whimpered.

"I was sleeping. No one bothered to tell me they were eating. I can see you're an understanding woman, uh… What's your name?"

The servant is named Ellee and she is _mean_. She shook her head—"You heard what Mistress said."—and sent me back to bed. (Humph!)

I could not sleep at all. I could also think of nothing to write in you. I fiddled with my quill, sketched a (bad) self-portrait (see above… or not. I've scribbled it out.), and drafted a letter to mother, which I promptly tore from your binding, crumpled up, and tossed under my bed.

After that, I wandered through the halls like a ghost. I even moaned a bit, hoping that if I could not eat, I could at least scare Ahtia or Enile or Astraea—whom I_thought_ would be kind to me. (That's a lie. I didn't moan. Truth be told, I was frightened by the darkness myself. But that's our little secret.)

I returned to my room and fetched a cloak from my chest. In the midst of my insomnia, I was feeling strangely bold. (Beside the being afraid of ghosts bit…) It occurred to me that I might go through a stroll in the streets to soak in the sights of Aamina, unfiltered by what Ahtia deemed important or not. It seemed a brilliant idea, really.

The manor is perhaps a ten or twenty minute walk from the city. It all seems quite ridiculous now—who _knows_ what characters are milling around in the middle of the night?—but then it seemed perfectly delightful. And it was remarkably easy to slip out of the house. I just picked a window, heaved one leg over, then the next, and there I was: standing on dewy ground. You know, it would be a breeze to run away from this place!

I won't, because I wouldn't want Mother to catch wind of it and worry herself to death. (I do care about her, no matter how much I don't want to.) I'd write her first to tell her my plan, and even if she disapproved she'd let me come home. Probably without Father's knowledge, but that's for the best. All this is beside the point, but I refuse to run away until something interesting has happened to me.

Anyways, I slipped out without a care in the world and headed down the road. Simultaneously unnerved and encouraged by the utter silence, I decided to sing the_Awada Uryau_, my favorite ditty, at the top of my lungs. I was strolling along quite happily when I heard the thundering of hooves coming from behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder.

Two young men (_idiots_, if you ask me) were racing towards me, as fast as the wind, whooping and guffawing and MERE SECONDS AWAY FROM TRAMPLING ME TO DEATH.

Luckily, I threw myself out of their way before they could SENSELESSLY MURDER ME.

They skidded to a stop a quite a bit after the place where they would have—I'll refrain from lapsing into capitals—killed me.

One young man, a (seemingly) tall, freckled fellow (whom I REFUSE to call handsome), breathlessly called to his friend in Kyrrian: "Ask her if she's alright, will you?"

The other one, a man of classic Ayorthaian looks (whom I also refuse to call attractive), turned to look at me with a scowl.

"Are you _hurt_?" He asked petulantly in Ayorthaian, annoyed with having slowed his horse for a creature a lowly creature like me.

_He_ was annoyed, and yet_I_ was the one sitting in a rut on the side of the roadway!

"Yes, _perfectly_," I answered in Kyrrian. (I didn't want them to think I was some ignorant provincial!) I stood, unabashedly brushed off my bottom, and turned to the freckled man. "Don't mind us Ayorthaian folk. I'm sure in Kyrria it's custom to callously crush any fool who happens to be in _your_ way."

He just smiled. It was not twenty seconds before they both had kicked their horses' sides and were flying towards Aamina once more.

I, exhausted by my near-death experience, shuffled back to Ahtia's manor, climbed back in a window, went to my room, and fell asleep. I suppose, in hindsight, near-death by possible trampling is better than real death by thief in Aamina.

Not that there are many thieves, I wouldn't think.

I shall have to ask Astraea, whom I've decided to forgive. After all, she and I are to share a governess, and I want to know how to get in her good graces. (If I must suffer, I should at least suffer as little as possible, no?)

It is well past breakfast (which I slept past… feh) and is very near lunch, so I'm going to loiter around downstairs so there is NO POSSIBLE WAY I miss that meal. I also plan to inquire after the character of my governess from Astraea.

-- Adareia

* * *

2nd October

Diary,

I feel stupid. The governess_lives_ in the manor. I suppose I would've known that, had I actually been at dinner or breakfast…

She looks stern. She is in her forties at least, has black hair, gray eyes, and a striking widow's peak. She also did not smile once during lunch. Things are not looking promising.

Lessons begin tomorrow. I kept stealing glances at her, hoping she'd smile warmly or wink, or give some indication that she's not as bad as she seems. But she didn't. If anything, she _glared_.

Oh. I'd almost forgotten. Her name is Madame Innai.

I have the feeling I will have to be very sneaky about my inquiries to Astraea. I have the feeling that Madame Innai knows everything that transpires in this manor. Part of me worries whether she witnessed my slipping out last night…

Oh dear. I hope not.

-- Adareia

* * *

4th October

Diary,

First day of lessons were brutal. Second day were no better. Do not wish to recount much. Madame Innai was strict. She criticized my every movement, word, and even—I kid you not—insisted that I not THINK myself above her lessons. Well, they're silly and petty, and I can't help but think that! Sewing, dancing, etiquette, and singing are all that are covered. And what's better: Kyrrian manners are in fashion these days.

Bleh. Kyrrians are so rude and obnoxious. I prefer Ayorthaian manners, thanks.

Needless to say, my rigorous study of languages will _not_ be continued here. Master Emilie's hard work is to be wasted, unless I take it upon myself to practice my languages. And at the moment, I'm too tired to even think about it.

I asked Astraea if she had any secrets to surviving Innai. She said, and I quote, "Oh, Adareia! She's really not so bad. You just have to try your best, and she'll see that."

Brilliant. That was the worst advice I'd ever received.

I'm too angry and frustrated to write much more.

But Diary, listen to this: after being abused by Innai, I must also endure abuse at Ahtia's hands for not instantaneously exhibiting proficiency in my lessons!

The world is cruel. I've yet to enjoy the city. I've yet to see an Elf. So far, I've had no adventure at all.

I want to go home.

-- Adareia

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for the reviews! Keep it up, please. ;-)**

** If there are any differences between the description of a sing in Ella Enchanted and in my story, I apologize. I don't have my book handy, so I did my best from memory.  
**

* * *

10th October 

Apologies, apologies, apologies, apologies, apologies, etc., etc…

I really did mean to write. But what was there to say? Not much one can write about their curtsey being fine-tuned. Or Enile pulling one's hair and getting away with it. FIVE TIMES. Or finding that Astraea is very kind when alone with one, but won't speak a word in one's defense when faced with authority figures.

Ahtia is still annoying. And my uncle Unatu? I don't see him for more than an hour a day, and that is at meals. He does not speak at all, which I am told is genteel Ayorthaian behavior.

I am no judge of what is and is not genteel, but I DO know the difference between mind-numbingly dull and interesting. If this is genteel society, I want out.

Innai has let up on me a little, which is enough to raise my spirits. She says I have a lovely voice—"A bit lower than is in fashion, but it will do."

The word "fashion" is thrown about disgustingly often. I don't quite understand it. Why place so much stock in something that is always changing?

Alas, statements like that are why Ahtia is forever sighing that I am impossibly coarse.

I don't understand her. Why does it make her happy to insult me? It's not that I care very much, but… Well, it gets tiring.

I'm not ill mannered. I _do_ try. I'm not wild for the sake of being contrary. Perhaps I'm a little rough-hewn in comparison to Astraea, the consummate young lady, but I'm polite and I don't slurp my soup, which must count for something.

I don't think Ahtia really cares about my progress, but if she did I'd want her to know that I'd like to be the sort of girl who can be pretty and dainty. I want to improve. I want to dance well and be admired and meet people and make friends. I really do.

But I never, NEVER, _**NEVER**_ want to be the girl who's unwilling and afraid to say anything for fear of offending others. Of course I don't want to be gallivanting around, running my mouth off, hurting people's feelings. I just don't want to be so timid that I never speak up for myself. I _do_ want to make other people happy in my life, but I don't want to lose myself for their sake.

All right, Diary: I am done being philosophical.

There is a small sing at the palace tomorrow, and a royal invitation has been extended to Unatu, Ahtia, Astraea, and Enile. Ahtia is "hesitant" to bring me along because: "You've still SO much to learn before you're ready to be introduced to polite society."

Grr. I wasn't exactly raised by wolves, you know! Astraea claims she will put in a good word for me, but I find it doubtful that she'll actually carry through on this promise.

And so all tomorrow I shall sit like _Acenicienta_, that poor little cinder girl from the old Ayorthaian Fairy Tale. Well, I suppose Madame Innai will be here too, and so I shall have a lesson. As if _that_ is much of a comfort.

And if things were not bad enough, I asked Astraea whether she'd ever seen an Elf at one of the royal sings.

"An elf?" She replied, arching a brow. "Oh, I've seen several. On several occasions I've seen Gnomes there, too. And of course, there are dignitaries from Kyrria, Opyre, Surluna…"

Acenicienta might've had to clean the house, but she only had a stupid prince waiting for her.

Dinner is ready. I refuse to sulk. Perhaps Ahtia will prove that she is not as terrible as I think her.

-- Adareia

* * *

10th October, after supper 

Diary,

She is not as terrible as I think her! She is not as terrible as I think her! (Actually, Madame Innai and Uncle Unatu are not as terrible as I think _them_. Ahtia was backed into a corner.)

I'm going!

Madame Innai, in the middle of the meal, cleared her throat and said quite confidently: "Adareia may be somewhat rustic, but she is making marked improvement. I trust that she will be able to remain composed—" Code for keep my mouth shut. "—during your excursion tomorrow, should you allow her to go."

I made her proud and did not break into a grin. I turned my eyes to Aunt Ahtia and Uncle Unatu, waiting.

"I see no reason why she should not," Uncle Unatu mumbled gruffly.

I could have—but did _not_, of course—hugged him.

Ahtia looked at her husband, blinking furiously. My theory is that he never speaks more than a word, so she's free to treat people however she likes. However, on the rare occasion that he DOES speak, Ahtia's obligated to actually listen to what he says.

"Fine. She'll come along," Ahtia managed to say through gritted teeth.

Astraea offered a secretive 'I knew it'd turn out for the best!' look, which I disregarded because she hadn't done anything for me. (Well it's true!)

Anyways, I'm sitting in their garden, which despite being impeccably manicured and not very natural is still nice to behold. Astraea is inside, going through my trunk and picking out a suitable outfit. She seemed very eager to, and I don't particularly care, so I humored her.

It's nearing nightfall, so I suppose I ought to go inside. But I like it out here, and I can see the spires of the palace over the hedge. I wish I had Astraea's talent, for there's nothing I'd like more than to be able to capture the beauty of this moment.

Forgive me. I suppose the world seems lovely when, like Acenicienta, you're allowed to go to the ball.

Figuratively speaking, of course. I'm only going to a sing… WHERE I MIGHT MEET AN ELF.

Ah… Life can be good.

-- Adareia

* * *

October 12th 

Diary.

Yes. You're still Diary. I didn't meet an Elf, so you remain sadly unnamed.

I suppose you're nevertheless dying to know what happened at the sing. But that would be getting ahead of ourselves.

We must begin when I was woken. By Astraea. Who was insisting to know why I was not up yet.

"What time is it?" I mumbled, sitting up lethargically.

"Seven," she chirped, patting my back. "Up, up, up with you!"

I stared at her abjectly. "Correct me if I'm mistaken, but I was under the impression that the sing was at TWELVE. _IN THE AFTERNOON!"_

Astraea crossed her arms over her chest. "It is! But we have to leave at eleven thirty, silly!"

I continued to stare.

She widened her eyes as if to say '_Well? Get up_!'.

"You're telling me that I need four and a half hours to get dressed?"

"Well, eating breakfast might take up some time."

Astraea pouted.

I threw off the covers and grumbled.

"Don't be so sulky! Look! Your dresses were all so plain, so I took one of my sashes and… Well, look already!"

She held up a cream-colored gown of mine—one with pretty red, embroidered flowers on it—and a crimson sash. They looked decent together, so I grunted appreciatively and took them from her.

Astraea was beaming. "Oh, I'm ever so glad you like it!"

I shrugged and shooed her out. (I had to get dressed and all.)

Astraea offered to send in a servant to help me dress. Call me crazy, but I've never heard of such a thing. Must be the influence of Kyrria again. Ugh. What a tragedy. The supreme laziness of Kyrrians will forever baffle me.

(You'll forgive me for my bitterness towards Kyrria. I can hardly help it at the moment… But you'll understand that in due time.)

For the sake of my cramping hand, I'll spare you banal tales of breakfast conversations. I will, however, tell you of the significant looks Madame Innai sent me. I interpreted them as saying: _'I've put in a good word for you, so if you make me look bad you'll regret it.'_

Which I completely empathized with. She did me an enormous favor, and I intended to behave perfectly to make her proud.

But intentions only go so far, as you'll see. Ah, I shouldn't torture you so. You are eternally good to me, diary, and I tease you. My apologies.

At eleven thirty sharp—I kid you not; Ahtia takes her punctuality very seriously—I was herded into the carriage, where I was crushed between a sweating Unatu and a perpetually whining Enile. I shall leave the gloriousness of this ride to your imagination.

The pity was that the carriage curtains were drawn—the light gives Ahtia "a headache"—so I saw nothing of the people of Aamina or their homes or the character of the city.

The carriage arrived at the sandstone palace quite promptly, easily before twelve. Luckily, as Astraea was so kind to point out, the Ayorthaian custom of arrival has not been influenced by Kyrrian culture. It is still fashionable to arrive before the invitation stipulates, so I was—again—herded into the palace before I could sufficiently appreciate the contrast between the warm colors of the building itself with the cool greens of the garden in front of it.

(Fine, perhaps I'm getting sappy about contrasts and colors and nonsense like that, but I NEVER GET TO TAKE A MOMENT AND JUST ENJOY ANYTHING! A-hem. Sorry about that. Rant complete, I promise. Anyways…)

We were whisked through grand halls and corridors with the traditionally sparse Ayorthaian furnishing, complete with gorgeous pottery and tapestries and art, etc., etc. It was breathtaking, and I doubt I'd be able to do it justice, so I shan't even try.

After this hurried, unceremonious tour of the palace, we were led to a courtyard in which many well-dressed people (courtiers, I assume) were seated. A small, empty stage stood before them, on which the leader of the singing was to stand. Off to the side, segregated from the Ayorthaians, were various foreigners. (It was obvious from the way they watched us natives that they had either never seen a sing or knew that they were not quite a part of the proceedings.)

I was almost as awestruck as they, for Onofro's sings were even _smaller_ than this one! I couldn't help but grin excitedly at Astraea, who smiled patronizingly.

"You're so funny, Adareia," she whispered.

The courtyard was almost silent. Our nobles are always reputed to be the most reserved in the world, but I never suspected such a degree of silence was achievable.

"There's the king," Enile remarked, elbowing me in the stomach. (So much for manners!)

"And queen. _And_ their son," Astraea added, instantly receiving a reproachful glare from her mother.

I was nervously anticipating an introduction, but Ahtia guided us to a back row and all but pushed us into our seats. She then grabbed Unatu's arm, looped hers through it almost violently, and marched off to the king.

King Amadi is not at all how I pictured a king. He's broad-shouldered, but not very tall, and his coloring is far lighter than most Ayorthaians. (His mother, I believe, was a Surlunaian, and they are a fair people.) His hair is only a medium colored brown with an almost reddish hue, and his eyes were either hazel or light brown. He was not handsome, but by no means ugly. He had a strong jaw and a prominent nose, and a thoughtful, studious look about him. Not very commanding, but I suppose I like that about him.

The Queen—who is Ayorthaian by birth, and of a most noble and ancient family—was a beautiful creature, with classic Ayorthaian looks (dark hair, dark eyes, tan skin, etc.) and a cool air about her. Though she is quite a bit younger than her husband, I think I would be more afraid of speaking to her than him. She's an intimidating woman to behold.

I couldn't quite see their son, for Enile was in the way and he wouldn't move to let me see because he insisted that I was being rude staring at the royals like that. Conscious of the necessity of good manners, I gave up on seeing Ayortha's young prince and sat back in my seat.

It was quite a while longer 'til the sing began, and in the meantime I was bored out of my mind in the silence maintained by all around me.

It was when a young woman, sickly looking and small, took the stage that the magic began. Immediately she began, her voice steady and low, with a heartbreaking valediction: a song of goodbye from a soldier to his wife as he goes off to war. When she reached the chorus, the rest of us started in, and you could see tears glistening on people's cheeks as we sang the tale of their star-crossed love. Next came an ode, and next a paean to the breeze, and on and on.

I shall never forget the young woman's voice. For those hours I was not myself or in myself. I was wherever she took me and whomever she was singing about. It sounds silly, I suppose, but never has anything ever been as true as that.

The sing was not the usual all day and night affair, but an abridged version, if you will. I did not want the music to ever end, but once it did I realized how exhausting the experience was. I turned slack-jawed to Astraea, who only smiled that cheerful smile at me.

I shall never know anything of what she is thinking. Did it affect her as deeply as it affected me? Who knows? How could one ever know, when she is always acting _that_ way?

Had the afternoon ended thus, I would have been infinitely happy. But of course it did not.

Perhaps, Diary, you remember my brush with death not too long ago? You remember the Kyrrian who nearly killed me?

Well, he's _the prince_._Of Kyrria_. Prince Jerrold, guest of the Ayorthaian court. Just my luck, hmm?

And almost immediately after the sing had ended, he marched over to me, narrowed his eyes, wrinkled his nose and demanded: "Wait… I've seen you before, haven't I?"

At first I didn't recognize him. I was nevertheless embarrassed, naturally, because Aunt Ahtia and Uncle Unatu were staring at me. So was Astraea. Come to think of it, many people had turned to look at me.

I did not know then that he was the prince, so I assumed the fact that he spoke so freely and loudly had attracted their attention.

It hit me after a moment that he was the young man from that night, but I wasn't about to admit—IN FRONT OF AHTIA—that I had snuck out of the house to take a midnight stroll!

He spoke Kyrrian, so I prayed and hoped with all my might that Ahtia and Unatu did not know any.

"Your… _Highness_," Ahtia managed clumsily in Kyrrian.

She curtseyed, and Unatu bowed his head. I stared blankly at the young man. _Highness? What?!_

The prince ignored them.

"Well, don't I know you?" Prince Jerrold demanded. He crossed his sinewy arms over his chest.

I shook my head. I did not want to speak a word of Kyrrian, for I knew Ahtia would think I was saying something… well, something she wouldn't approve of, simply because she couldn't understand. Besides, I WAS TALKING TO A PRINCE?!? THE PRINCE OF KYRRIA HAD ALMOST KILLED ME?

Forgive me, but words were not forthcoming.

"Wait…Uyri! Uyri!" Prince Jerrold clapped his hands victoriously and gestured to his riding companion from the other evening. "Uyri, isn't this the girl we almost trampled that night?"

Uyri arrived and glanced at me, nodding vaguely. "I believe so."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the king and his queen coming over. My face was aflame. That was NOT how I'd wanted my introduction to the royals to go.

"Adareia," Ahtia murmured virulently in Ayorthaian, squeezing my arm. "What is the meaning of this?"

I looked helplessly to Astraea, who conveniently happened to be looking away at the moment. I even looked to Enile, who seemed only to be enjoying the awkwardness of the situation.

I finally mustered the courage to speak.

"I'm sure I've never seen you in my life," I informed him in quavering Kyrrian. I turned to Ahtia and innocently translated what I'd said into Ayorthaian.

She was unconvinced. So was the prince.

"What do you mean? You were in that rut, and you said to me—Uyri, don't you remember? She said that little jibe about how it's perfectly acceptable for Kyrrians to run each other over or something like that? Don't you? Come now, don't look at me as though…"

He trailed off. I suppose my imploring expression finally got through that thick skull of his. He wrinkled his freckled nose and grinned down at me.

"Oh. I see. Out past curfew, eh? Forget I ever mentioned it."

Then he _winked_.

I could have slapped him. Perhaps Ahtia couldn't speak Kyrrian very well, but his wink was enough to incriminate me more than words ever could.

"Your Highness?" King Amadi inquired in Kyrrian, arching a brow. His accent was pedestrian, I thought, for a king. "Who is this acquaintance of yours?"

Prince Jerrold looked at me and shrugged. "Acquaintance? What acquaintance?"

I think I let out a small sigh, so frustrated was I by his denseness. (Part of me wanted to holler: IT'S TOO LATE, YOU IDIOT, TO PRETEND YOU DON'T KNOW ME!)

So I looked at my feet. I knew Madame Innai was never going to put in a good word for me again.

"This is my niece," Ahtia replied, every syllable spoken with unnecessary force. "My sister Euthalie's daughter, Adareia."

I was still staring at me feet (wondering why I'd worn the particular shoes I'd worn: they matched very poorly). Someone nudged me, and I at last looked up and swept a quick curtsy, never really looking at the king.

"Well," the queen said, laughing, "I for one am quite confused. Adareia, my dear, how do you know our royal guest?"

Jerrold was looking on in irritation, and it at last occurred to me that he didn't even speak Ayorthaian. Uyri, however, _did_. Lying was out of the question, unless Uyri was willing to play along.

I could tell by the unsmiling look on his face that he was not.

So, with much fumbling and stuttering and blushing and wishing I'd never come to Aamina, I explained how we met.

The queen tittered. "Oh, what a charming story!"

The king stared at me. I've no idea whether he was amused or horrified or perplexed or… well, you understand. Prince Jerrold, bored by the interaction or annoyed that he could not understand it, wandered off somewhere.

We left soon after that, and no one said a word to me in the carriage. No one spoke a word to me when we arrived back at the manor. Dinner will soon be served, but I don't know that I have the heart to go.

I really am quite afraid.

-- Adareia

* * *


End file.
